the Gauss readout, and his big hands locked behind his empty head.
Dolfan smiled back and took a chair beside him. “How’s the Gauss?”
“Same.” Mof twisted his seat from side to side and grinned. “Normal.”
Normal. Except that he’d found the Kingmaker, except that the woman of his dreams, the perfect woman, took Madame Nerala’s station tour as they sat there grinning like idiots. Both of them grinning like idiots. Dolfan frowned. Why the hell was Mof so tickled?
“What gives?”
“Huh?” Mofitan slid his legs off the console and spun to face him. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? You’re grinning like a cat and civil.”
Mofitan nodded and leaned back further. He turned back to the screens, but Dolfan could see his reflection smiling out from them. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood?”
“Maybe.” Dolfan nodded, but a seed of suspicion still nagged.
“Besides,” Mof continued. “When I’m king, it will go easier if we’re not at one another’s throat.”
The seed sprouted into a sapling. The statement didn’t hold Mofitan’s usual swagger. He said it casually, matter-of-factly. “It will go easier if we get along,” Dolfan said, “ whoever is chosen as king.”
“Good, because when I’m king,”—he did it again—“I’ll need full support from the Council to be effective.”
“Full support.” Dolfan let him play a little. In fact, he did wonder what Mofitan as king would look like. He let his curiosity answer. “And what would we be supporting, then?”
“Defense increases.” Mofitan had thought his leadership through. The man had plans hovering around his edges that Dolfan had never suspected. “At least double the forces at the elevator platform, increase organized training and, eventually, a second platform.”
“Two platforms? Won’t two elevators weaken our defenses?”
Mof shook his head. “No elevator. A second platform, equidistant from the first, with a response fleet.”
“Response to what?” Dolfan made the mistake of laughing, catching some of the old rivalry in Mofitan’s glare. “Seriously, Mof. An attack through the Shroud?”
“It’s not impossible, but no. I was thinking back-up troops should the elevator or the base fall out of our hands.”
“You’ve given this some serious thought.”
“We are prince candidates, Dolfan. Shouldn’t we all give it some serious thought?”
He had a valid point, and it stung more than a little. “I give serious thought to the Gauss, to running the base, to my work , Mofitan. I don’t have time to play king.”
“Well, in your case, it would be playing.”
“You seem awfully damn certain about that.”
“Will you support me or not?”
“What makes you think you won’t be supporting me?”
The room went silent. Dolfan watched Mof’s reflection, and it watched him. They stared off for three breaths before both spoke in unison. “The Kingmaker is here.”
Mof’s eyebrows lifted. Dolfan imagined his own expression matched the other’s surprise. How did Mofitan know about her? How could he? Dolfan felt the pull. He knew it every time he got within forty feet of the woman.
“How did you know that?” Mofitan’s upper lip curled. Apparently the idea of peace had lost its appeal. “How do you know about her?”
“How do you?”
“I asked you first.”
Dolfan stared at him. Mofitan couldn’t possibly know about her. Had he guessed, or was he just bluffing? Dolfan had recognized the Kingmaker the moment he laid eyes on her. Mofitan couldn’t possibly understand that. He’d almost convinced himself when Mof spoke.
“I can feel her,” he said. “She’s here for me.”
T he atrium backed up to a sizable retail area where what traffic Moon Base 14 did see could shop for the Shroud’s few exports. Silk, some of the finest she’d ever seen, draped across long metal racks. Jewelers cut and set samplings of the stones mined from the Shroud core. As the women window shopped,
Dolfan smiled back and took a chair beside him. “How’s the Gauss?”
“Same.” Mof twisted his seat from side to side and grinned. “Normal.”
Normal. Except that he’d found the Kingmaker, except that the woman of his dreams, the perfect woman, took Madame Nerala’s station tour as they sat there grinning like idiots. Both of them grinning like idiots. Dolfan frowned. Why the hell was Mof so tickled?
“What gives?”
“Huh?” Mofitan slid his legs off the console and spun to face him. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? You’re grinning like a cat and civil.”
Mofitan nodded and leaned back further. He turned back to the screens, but Dolfan could see his reflection smiling out from them. “Maybe I’m just in a good mood?”
“Maybe.” Dolfan nodded, but a seed of suspicion still nagged.
“Besides,” Mof continued. “When I’m king, it will go easier if we’re not at one another’s throat.”
The seed sprouted into a sapling. The statement didn’t hold Mofitan’s usual swagger. He said it casually, matter-of-factly. “It will go easier if we get along,” Dolfan said, “ whoever is chosen as king.”
“Good, because when I’m king,”—he did it again—“I’ll need full support from the Council to be effective.”
“Full support.” Dolfan let him play a little. In fact, he did wonder what Mofitan as king would look like. He let his curiosity answer. “And what would we be supporting, then?”
“Defense increases.” Mofitan had thought his leadership through. The man had plans hovering around his edges that Dolfan had never suspected. “At least double the forces at the elevator platform, increase organized training and, eventually, a second platform.”
“Two platforms? Won’t two elevators weaken our defenses?”
Mof shook his head. “No elevator. A second platform, equidistant from the first, with a response fleet.”
“Response to what?” Dolfan made the mistake of laughing, catching some of the old rivalry in Mofitan’s glare. “Seriously, Mof. An attack through the Shroud?”
“It’s not impossible, but no. I was thinking back-up troops should the elevator or the base fall out of our hands.”
“You’ve given this some serious thought.”
“We are prince candidates, Dolfan. Shouldn’t we all give it some serious thought?”
He had a valid point, and it stung more than a little. “I give serious thought to the Gauss, to running the base, to my work , Mofitan. I don’t have time to play king.”
“Well, in your case, it would be playing.”
“You seem awfully damn certain about that.”
“Will you support me or not?”
“What makes you think you won’t be supporting me?”
The room went silent. Dolfan watched Mof’s reflection, and it watched him. They stared off for three breaths before both spoke in unison. “The Kingmaker is here.”
Mof’s eyebrows lifted. Dolfan imagined his own expression matched the other’s surprise. How did Mofitan know about her? How could he? Dolfan felt the pull. He knew it every time he got within forty feet of the woman.
“How did you know that?” Mofitan’s upper lip curled. Apparently the idea of peace had lost its appeal. “How do you know about her?”
“How do you?”
“I asked you first.”
Dolfan stared at him. Mofitan couldn’t possibly know about her. Had he guessed, or was he just bluffing? Dolfan had recognized the Kingmaker the moment he laid eyes on her. Mofitan couldn’t possibly understand that. He’d almost convinced himself when Mof spoke.
“I can feel her,” he said. “She’s here for me.”
T he atrium backed up to a sizable retail area where what traffic Moon Base 14 did see could shop for the Shroud’s few exports. Silk, some of the finest she’d ever seen, draped across long metal racks. Jewelers cut and set samplings of the stones mined from the Shroud core. As the women window shopped,
Similar Books
